


All I Want For Christmas

by virtualpersonal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, BtVS/Supernatural, Christmas, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Romance, Sexy Times, dean/buffy - Freeform, xmas, xover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a mission to obtain something called a Slayer for Castiel, Dean runs into Buffy, now retired and doing her damnedest to live a normal life. He’s everything she’s ever wanted in a permanent relationship, a normal one… or is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com)
> 
> Co-written with Art of Mayhem

Dean had picked up beer and snacks and was heading back to the motel. It was a good night. Sky was clear, moon was out and he had the windows down and radio turned up. It was down time for a change for the brothers, the lull before the next battle. 

Castiel suddenly appeared in the passenger seat. "Dean, you need to go to Colorado." His voice was calm and he didn’t look at the driver as he spoke.

Dean glanced at him as he slowed down. "Dude, you have so got to stop doing that." He took a deep breath. “And I'm not going to Colorado. We need to stay here and find Lilith. Besides, it’s cold there."

"There is reason."

"And I told you ..." Dean shot back, irritated.

"Don't take that tone with me," Castiel turned his head toward him, adding more softly, "Have faith." 

"Faith? You want me to have faith when ..." Dean didn't get to finish as the angel was gone and when he looked back out at the road, snow was gently falling against his windshield. "Oh, fuck me." He hated when Castiel did this. At least this time he brought his car. 

*****

Dean had no idea where he was, other than some place in Colorado. This was clearly some sort of ski resort. There were lots of little shops with ski gear hanging in them, coffee shops and boutiques displaying winter clothes. Spotting a lodge, he parked the car in front of it. He was getting a chill. A drink and a talk with someone might give him an idea of where he was and what he was doing here. .

 

He trotted up the steps and found himself inside a hotel lobby, with couches and low tables. There was an adjoining room, where he could see a roaring fire and the bar. The fire place looked welcoming and but there was something else there too. Pretty. Blonde. Just his type. He moved to the bar, ordering a whiskey and made his way over to her. "Mind if I sit?" 

The lodge's bar was pretty empty, but it would get full of chattering women quite quickly. Buffy turned her head and felt her heart stutter. There were a heck of a lot of handsome guys out here on the ski slopes, but this one... it should be illegal to look that hot.

She licked her lips and nodded. "You the stripper? " He was in regular clothes but it was still early and she thought he’d get into costume later. 

Dean paused and looked down at himself, then back at her to make sure he hadn’t misheard, that she was talking about him. Smiling, he shook his head, "Sorry to disappoint you, not the stripper, but perhaps later ...?" He sat down, taking a drink.

She felt heat steal up her cheeks. "Maybe," she gave a slightly awkward laugh. "There's gonna be a bachelorette party here, that's why I thought..." _Not to mention you're hella sexy._

Fighting off the instinct to pull her skirt down since it had inched up while she sat on the stool, she took a sip of her coke, kinda really wishing it was something stronger. "In a little while you'll probably get the same question from others, or you know, have to beat off all the women."

Dean lowered his lashes, chuckling a bit. How lucky was he? Bachelorette party, hot sexy girl with pink lips that were taunting him to touch ... did Castiel know? Surely this was not the reason he brought Dean here.

He gave a little shrug, "I don't know, maybe if I'm lucky." There fought the urge to kiss those soft wet lips, not that this was anything new where women were concerned. Except this one…

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you’re lucky,” she said, dragging her gaze away from the heat in his eyes. And he wasn’t even trying, that she was sure of. “So... what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you around.” She held her breath, hoping against hope he wasn’t some tourist. It had been a long while since she’d felt like this, all breathless and hoping ... hoping for something, and right now it was mostly that he wouldn’t walk off.

"Took a vacation and decided to come up here. Never seen the mountains," he said, though he had many times in his cross country drives, "Figured, maybe I should learn how to ski." He shifted toward her a bit more, "You wouldn't happen to be a ski instructor?" Though he would prefer her to be one of those ski bunnies he had heard so much about.

“On vacation, oh.” Her eyes held just a little less sparkle. “I’ve been living here almost a year now. Not a ski instructor, but if you want lessons, I can help you out. And I’m free. I mean...” the way he looked at her made her kinda dizzy and she knew she was sounding very ‘blond’ at the moment. “You know what I mean,” recovering, she gave him a smile. “Are you staying at the lodge?”

Dean glanced smirked at her choice of words and the way she stumbled over them. Free meant she was single. Free meant she had no boyfriend and in a subtle way, she was telling him so. "Actually, I just got into town and don't have a place yet to stay." He shifted back to her, "If I like it here, I might just stay." Another lie. "Can you recommend a good place?"

“So you fly by the seat of your pants then.” If he hadn’t given her _that look_ , she wouldn’t have really thought about his pants, or how his ass might look in them, but his expression made it clear he thought she was thinking about exactly that. Okay, he was getting her all tangled up like she was still in high school or something. She blew out a breath. “I rent one of the cabins, and I love it. I’m sure the rooms in the lodge are nice. They get pretty full so you should... you know, check right away.”

The corners of Dean’s lips curling as he looked at her. There were all sorts of things going through his head, like he wondered how those legs she kept crossing and uncrossing under the table looked. "Cabin huh, sounds more to my liking than some room. Cause I might stay longer. You think they got any more available?" He’d need the privacy and space if he was to figure out what he was really doing here.

“God I hope so. I mean...” She quickly glanced at the bar tender, “I’ll take another.”

“Here you go miss, coke on the rocks. Try not to get tipsy on it again.”

Shaking her head, she turned to Dean. “It’s still early. So what do you mean you might stay?” Yeah she didn’t take that seriously, he was just flirting and probably knew the exact right things to say to a girl. She really should brush him off and walk away. Then again, the thought that he’d be chatting up another girl... that didn’t make her feel so good.

Dean lifted his glass and took a drink. A distant look crossed his features, turning sad for a moment before he forced a smile, "Just that. I might decide to stay and never go back. Job sucks. Pay is not that great," he gave a shrug. "You here for that party?" The bar was starting to fill up with people, mostly women.

“Not really, I was here for the stripper.” She grinned and stirred her straw into her drink. Now if he’d been the stripper, she definitely would have stayed for it. Her gaze lingered for a moment on him as she tried to puzzle out the reason for that look she’d glimpsed for a second before he’d gone back to Mr. Hot and Confident. “You gonna stay for it?” 

Male stripper, he wasn’t thrilled, but Dean rose to the fiery challenge in her eyes. "Well if you are," he moved in closer, "At least I'll have something to fantasize about." Damn but he really wanted to just touch her to see if she was as soft as she looked.

“You’re real smooth.” Ordinarily she’d be shoving him away or walking off, but she didn’t want to. Even if only half of what he was saying was true, he had that knack for making a person feel special... and she liked being his focus, if only for the moment. “As for fantasies, remember... I thought you were the stripper.” It was the truth, and she didn’t even have to imagine him in a cop or other uniform to get all hot and bothered... thinking of him removing the layers of ordinary clothes he was wearing was enough to do that.

Dean gave a slightly naughty smile when she compared him to a stripper, again. "Want to move to some place a little less crowded?" He asked, motioning to the more private table in the corner. He wouldn't mind having her all to himself. "Maybe a stronger drink?"

She gave a nod. “They have great mulled wine, you know, for the season.” As if the bar tender had been listening, he brought her a mug, which made her wish she’d ordered something that came in a glass. A mug was hardly sexy... oh well.

Slipping off the stool, she started to head to the sofas in the corner, glancing over her shoulder at him. “By the way, I’m Buffy.” _Not_ The Vampire Slayer. Not even ‘a’ slayer, just Buffy. It felt good to be normal.

Seeing the size of the cup, Dean raised a brow and wondered if she was gonna get tipsy. Either way, he would take care of her. Least he could do. 

As he followed with a fresh glass of whiskey in his hand, his gaze slid down over the curve of her ass. He was still admiring her legs when she glanced back. He quickly snapped his eyes back to hers and smiled. "Dean," he offered up, taking a seat close to her. "So what's it like here, Buffy?" information he might need, "What do you like to do for fun?" personal information for himself.

All he’d done was look at her and she was tingling all over. Really had to get a hold of herself. Cupping the warm mug in her hands, she looked back at him. “I’ve lived here almost a year. It’s kinda quiet on the off season, but in winter... it’s packed. I love all the holiday decorations, don’t you?” Her chin jutted toward the large roaring fireplace, and the mantle decorated with swags and berries. “I’ve got a part time job that’s kinda boring, but it pays the bills. The rest of the time, I like to hit the slopes, or walk around, do a bit of hiking. Watch T.V., eat in bed,” yeah that was a biggie, "... sleep in. Sometimes go really wild and catch a movie,” grinning, she added. “Sounds boring, doesn’t it?”

Dean looked at the steam rolling off the mug and filling the air around them with a cinnamon-y scent. If he leaned in just a little, he would see how it smelled mixed with her scent. Glancing around at the decorations, he figured there was nothing supernatural about them. They weren’t special wreaths made for pagan gods, no spirit calling herbs had been used, and there wasn’t a hint of any strange symbols. Okay, it meant that wasn't the thing Castiel had brought him here for.

"Oh, boring isn't so bad." In fact, boring was sometimes nice compared to what he experienced in the past year. "Bet you look sexy eating in bed in your big fluffy bunny slippers." He grinned widely.

“How do you know about those?” Was it crazy that she wanted him to know? Wanted to invite him back to her cabin, without even knowing his last name, what he did, or anything else about him? If he could make her blood warm and rush through her system like this without even touching her, what would happen if he did touch her? She wanted to know so bad she was swaying toward him.

Dean grinned. It was a lucky guess and he nailed it. The thought of running his hand down her leg was so damned tempting, just to feel how strong her legs might feel wrapped around him. As she swayed, he leaned in closer and drew in her scent. God, it was intoxicating. Tipping his head, he whispered over her ear. "I bet you look sexy in them."

His breath fanned out, so hot against her ear, scorched the sensitive skin of her throat and making her shiver. “You’ll have to tell me what you think when you see them.” The words, the _invitation_ was out before she could stop herself. 

Dean made a pleased sound and closed his eyes, brushing his lips against her ear before he pulled back a bit, "I think you would look sexy in anything, even my shirt," his greens looked into her eyes as he spoke.

His words had her heart racing, and he knew it. Suddenly the crowded bar wasn’t where she wanted to be. She wanted him to herself, wanted to know everything about him. Wanted to know how he tasted, and if he smelled like the outdoors, cause that’s what she was imagining. “You asking to come home with me?” 

He put his hand lightly on her thigh. God, she was hot. "I would love to take you home."

Her senses were swimming even before he stroked her leg. She wasn’t quite sure how they got up, or just when his arm went gone around her waist. She wasn’t complaining, not when it felt so good, so right, even when this wasn’t the sort of thing she did ... like ever. 

In the lobby, a big crowd of carolers were singing and spreading cheer in their Dickensian clothing, standing near the large Christmas tree. Ordinarily she’d stay and watch, but they were fighting their way past other people, and then finally broke outside into the crisp air. 

The moon was hanging low and lit their way, as the snow crunched under their feet. She stole a glance at him and felt her heart tumble. No man had the right to have lips like that, or eyes that could see straight through you. It was a lethal combination.

If Dean hadn't been with Buffy, he probably would knocked the tree down and ripped up the caroler's sheet music. Now he had freaking 'Winter wonderland' stuck in his head. _Car, music, must get to._

The minute they reached the Impala, Dean opened the passenger door. As he waited for her to get in, he just looked at her. The way the moonlight glittered off her hair and how the light reflected off her perfect skin. She was stunning just standing there and he wanted to just kiss her till she was breathless and weak in her knees.

She hardly looked at the car because the pulse at her throat was jumping and she was sure he could hear her heart. “You in a hurry?” Quirking her lips, she added, “... cause that’s the cabin ... right there.” It would take longer to drive and park, than walk straight across the snow.

Dean instantly closed and locked the door. Closing one arm around her, he bent down and whispered, "Let's go cause I really want to see you in those bunny slippers and nothing else."

Her mouth almost touched his when he turned slightly. He was such a tease. “Let’s go.” She felt him grab her hand and then they were running, their feet sinking deep into the snow as they tried to move faster. She was surprised at what good shape he was in because moving through snow, especially like this, was hard work. 

When they reached the porch, he was right up against her. God, this woman was hot. He couldn't remember the last time he’d let himself have fun in the middle of a job, this and he was sure he was gonna hear about it from Castiel who would complain about him getting distracted, but this was gonna be one hell of a distraction. "Let's get this open and get a fire going."   
As he pressed up against her back and ass, the warmth of his body seeping through her clothes, all she could think about was his mouth on hers, their bodies entwined. Even messing with the key seemed to be difficult, but eventually she got the door open, and they were inside. Turning in his arms, she looked up at him. "This is home."

"It's a beautiful home," he answered without really looking around, just at her. A simple step closer and he was slanting his mouth over hers in a heated kiss. 

The world fell away and Buffy melted into him, parting her lips and winding her arms around his shoulders. A part of her knew this was crazy, bringing some guy she didn't know home, just because she could see him 'at home' with her, fitting right into that dream she'd had for so long, didn’t make this the smart thing to do. He might be a drifter, he sure as heck had to at least be a player, and she was so out of her depth in that department. But she couldn't help it, couldn't help herself.

Dean planted one hand against the small of her back as he walked her backwards to the living room. His mouth worked against hers, his breaths coming hot and heavy as their tongues tangled. Moist kisses were exchanged till he suddenly lifted her up into his arms, "Bedroom or by the fire?" he asked, his mouth still close to hers with his eyes half closed. God, he wanted to see her naked.


	2. Chapter 2

His voice was low, hypnotic. Persuasive. Just like that, she was walking backwards and pulling him with her. "Fire," she said, going up in flames every time a step had him bumping into her. She started to pull his shirt off, her heart banging against her chest when he shrugged it off and she could see his tawny skin, stretched tight over chiseled muscles. If he wasn't an athlete... he should be.

Licking her lips, she reluctantly let him go to the fire, and dropped down on the sofa. Her eyes clung to him, watching as he added wood to the fire, taking in the breadth of his shoulders and the rippling of his muscles. He was sexy as hell. "Do you need a drink?"

Dean was an expert at getting a fire built and started but he took his time, trying to get a grip on himself. He knew she wanted him too, it was in her kiss, in how she touched him and how breathy her voice had gotten, laced with screaming need.

He paused and glanced back at her on the couch. The swell of her breasts were soft as they rose up and down with each breath. Her legs were tempting him to touch and spread them apart, to nestle his body between them. Geeze was he just that horny or was she, something that different? "If you are having one too?" 

The way he looked at her made her wonder if she could stand. Nodding, she got up and headed for the kitchen, sharply aware of the weight of his gaze. 

It seemed like a lifetime passed before she returned, and handed him a glass of wine. She wasn't a bit surprised when one of his arms came around her, and he pulled her down to the sofa. She... Buffy Summers... had a half naked guy who would make a great calendar model sitting next to her on the sofa. "I think I must'a been a good girl this year, if you're the present Santa brought me," she smiled and took a drink, resisting the urge to run her hands up and down the expanse of his chest.

Wine was not Dean's choice in drinks but he didn't complain as he took the glass. He held his pretty blonde close to him, partially because he was cold but mostly because he wanted to feel her against him. He’d had been looking into the fire when she spoke and was trying not to remember the torture he’d endured.

Turning his head toward her, his gaze dropped to her lips moist from the wine. Setting his glass down, he leaned close, reaching for hers and giving her a wicked look. "Want to show him how naughty you can be with your present?"

"You planning on corrupting me?" she asked, giving him her drink and running her hand up his smooth, warm chest as he set it down. The instant he turned back, she leaned in, covering his mouth with hers. His tongue flicked out to meet hers, scorching her in the process. Shifting, she moved into his arms, touching him, stroking him as their tongues tangled and danced together, sending her pulse racing.

Dean gave her wet kisses. She smelled like fresh picked flowers and she tasted like heaven to him. With one arm around her waist, his other hand was on her thigh, slowly skating and down. She was hot in so many ways. Dean wanted.

His moved his mouth down, nibbling her jaw and tilting her head back before nuzzling and leaving a wet trail along the silky column of her throat. He moved his hand from her leg to tease along the edge of her shirt, fingers brushing soft skin lightly before he pushed his hand inside and drawing her closer.

Calloused hands left hot trails across her back, molding her to his frame. The sensations his mouth was causing along the column of her throat made her ache with need. "Dean," she breathed his name, lifting up slightly then straddling his hips so his mouth moved lower, over her chest.

She felt him pull her close, and felt a blinding jolt when his erection pressed against her core. Any questions she'd had about where she was going with this were answered. Right there. Even if it was just one night, if he wasn't going to fulfill her dreams, she needed this moment. She needed him.

Dean's tongue ticked along the exposed skin at the swell of her breasts. His breaths grew heavier as his need to see more built. He pulled his mouth away, fingers grabbing her shirt and bunching it up as he turned it inside out and lifted it up over her head.

God she was beautiful. A soft lace bra covered her high breasts, and her waist was so damned narrow. Spreading his fingers, he moved his hands up her sides, smoothing over her skin, then cupping her breasts and squeezing softly as he leaned in for another kiss.

Again their tongues danced outside their mouths before he fully pressed his lips to hers. Fingers hooked under bra straps, he slid them down her arms, tugging her down against him and lifting his hips until his erection pushed up hard against her heated core. A groan broke out of him.

His mouth found its way to the lace, teasing along it before pulling one side down and blowing just a heated breath over a tight nipple. He covered it with his mouth, sucking then nipping lightly before blowing a cooling breath over it. God she was hot, perfect. "God, Buffy," he rasped as he turned to torture her other nipple.

"Dean, so good," she gave a strangled cry as she arched back, clutching his shoulders as dizzying sensations struck her in waves. Between the feel of his powerful masculine body under her, between her legs, and the things he was doing with his mouth, he was igniting her, setting her on fire like she'd never been before. "If this turns out to be some sort of dream, I'm so gonna have to hunt you down." 

Her hunting days were over. The Slayer's duties belonged to others now, so for once, she could enjoy her life. She could bring home a guy like Dean and, even if it was just a game of pretend, she could imagine what it would be like coming home to each other every night. And if this was anything to go by... holy hell... she wanted it... wanted the dream.

She lifted up and slid down against his erection, moaning softly as the rough material of his jeans made her more sensitive and she could feel every contour of his thickening arousal pressing against her. Her hands moved between them, and she dragged them down the tight expanse of his stomach, and lower, undoing the top button of his jeans.

Dean rocked his hips a little and shifted his body so those small hands could open his jeans more. His mouth left her breast, leaving them heated and cooled by the air. He was unhooking her bra, pulling it off and wanting this to last, stopping her from unzipping his jeans.

Once that lacey material was gone, Dean ran his hands over her body, cupping her breast, feeling its weight in the warmth of his palm, and kissing her again. Her hair curtained around him as their mouths played and worked against each other.

"God, you are beautiful, Buffy. The things I want to do to you, with you," he ran his hands around her and up her back, one hand tangling into her hair.

"Mmm," she gave a light groan, arching into his touch and kissing him back. They had all the time in the world, she wasn't on Slayer time, she reminded herself. He felt so good, so good as she moved over him, so good as she slid her bare chest against his... skin to skin. 

"Not all talk, are you?" A challenge in her eyes, Buffy moved her mouth down the strong column of his throat, kissing, licking him... feeling his pulse jumping as wildly as her own.

Dean felt his hand tighten in her hair and he let out a heavy heated breath as her mouth moved along him. "God no," he suddenly let go of her hair, grabbed her waist and lifted her, laying her down on the couch. His hands ran up her body, caressing, feeling her ribs and moving them up over her breasts, cupping them again as he locked his gaze with her.

Buffy couldn’t mistake the heat in his eyes. The need. The promise that Dean Winchester was a heckuvalot more than ‘just talk.’ But she knew that. Knew it already. 

He squeezed her breasts once more before his hands down to pull at her skirt. Impatiently, he searched for the zipper, is fingers found the zipper for it and pulled it down. Eyes still locked with hers, he hooked his fingers under both the waist band of her skirt panties. When there was no protest, he eased them down, drinking in the sight of her creamy soft skin, shapely legs and perfect feet. He pulled the skirt off and tossed it aside. Then, closing his fingers around one of her ankles, he brought it to his lips, parting them as his tongue played over her soft skin and alternately scrapeding his teeth along it.

Completely naked while he was still partly dressed, she should feel vulnerable. Instead, she felt warm and safe, like she was the center of his world. And he was hers. Arching her back, she gasped at the sensations skittering across her skin with each press of his mouth and tongue, the hot trails he left as he moves excruciatingly slowly up her leg.

Reaching out, needing to touch him, she curled her fingers around his strong biceps, squeezing, then moving to stroke his bare shoulders. The play of firelight on his tawny skin made her just want to map every part of him, with her hands, with her mouth... like he was doing to her.

Dean lifted his eyes from under his long lashes to gaze at this lovely woman with the fire light dancing over her skin. He lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder as his hand moved over her core, caressing up partway then back down. She was already so moist with need, it make his cock throb in his jeans.

He placed wet, open mouthed kisses along her hips, over the expanse of her stomach, then moved lower, skirting over where she needed him most. He wanted to make her squirm. Wanted to make her need him like she hadn't needed anyone before.

"Oh God, Dean..." she lifted her hips toward him, giving a small cry of frustration when he continued to tease her with his mouth. 

Dean took one finger and started tracing her opening, smearing her wetness and watching her intently as he slid his inside her.

The intensity of his gaze almost made her heart stop. There was complete silence, other than the crackling of firewood, and the rush of her blood in her ears. She was nodding, urging him to go on. Then reaching for him, encouraging him as his thumb started to move over her, sending waves of pleasure through her system.

Dean kept working her, swirling his thumb over her and loving how she was reacting. Especially how her breath came in shudders. Seeing her reach for him, he leaned closer, working his mouth against hers in a hungry kiss. 

He kept it up for as long as he could stand it... kissing, feeling her squirming under him as he moved his hand faster and faster, meeting her urgent motions. Then he broke. Peeling himself away, he stood up. Moving quickly, he pulled his pants off, tossing them next to her clothes, and then he was lowering his body over hers, cupping an arm under her and pressing them together as he kissed her.

The minute he left her, she started to protest. But then he was on top of her, covering her, his weight pressing her down into the sofa. Putting her arms around him, she kissed him back, their tongues tangling, dancing, slip sliding the way their bodies moved against each other. The press of his rock hard cock against her belly sent heat straight to her core. Made her need him so bad... so bad.... She'd never wanted anything so desperately.

Moving her hands down his back over his butt, she pulled him closer, rubbing up against him in invitation. "Dean, I need you. Really need you," she whispered, moving her mouth to his ear.

Dean closed his eyes, those words so sweet in his ear as she didn't know what that did to him. Just like that, he lifted her up and reached between them to give her what she wanted. What they both wanted so desperately.

The speed with which he moved, sitting up and drawing her over his lap to straddle him again had her giving a shaky laugh. "No, not all talk at all." She gave him an encouraging smile, and lifted up slightly as he aligned himself, then lowered slowly.

He started push in her and she was incredibly tight. "Jesus," Dean hissed as he felt himself enveloped by her heat. She felt so good, he needed more. He moved his hands to her ass, cupping and gripping as he pulled her down, trying to get as much of himself inside her. "Baby, you are ..." He hissed a breath when he was buried to the hilt inside her. "Heaven sent," he breathed out, looking up at her, waiting.

Buffy felt him, thick and hard, pressing against her entrance for a heart beat. She arched, crying out as she sheathed him completely and felt him pulsing inside her. Their heated breaths mingled as he waited for her to adjust to him. Seconds felt like hours, and then they both broke. "Dean," she was calling his name and pulling him closer, burning for him. 

Suddenly, they were both out of control. Kissing so hard, she knew her mouth would be swollen, but didn't care. All she wanted was more of him, of this. She pressed into him, struggling to get closer, riding him, riding him so hard that pleasure and pain mingled and made her mind go hazy. "Don't stop... please don't stop..."

Dean tangled his fist into her hair and pulled back, exposing the arch of her neck ... watching her ride him like that was so damned erotic. They were both probably gonna have bruises this was so worth it. She was lovely, hot and wild in every sense. And he wasn't planning on stopping.

He locked his mouth to hers and both arms held her as he slid them off the couch and he laid her on the coffee table which allowed him to pull back on his knees, grab her hips and rock into her harder, hearing the table groan and creak. "Oh, baby, if you let me, I'll do this with you all night." He said as he lifted her legs to his shoulders and he moved harder against her.

She wanted to lock her ankles around his waist, have more control, but he made it impossible. Whimpering, she lifted herself up, trying to grind against him as he tugged her close and thrust. All night... as bolts of heat went through her, she wondered if she could survive it. "So good," she pulled her knees in, trying to drag him closer each time they moved together. On her elbows, she started to push against him, her forehead damp with the effort, reaching... needing release. "Please... please," she pleaded, her eyes locking with his.

Dean pushed those legs wider as he leaned down and kissed her, giving her short hard thrusts geared to get them there. He felt their hot breaths huff out and mingle, and the sheen of their sweat easing the friction of their bodies. Even her kisses now tasted slightly like salt and the scent of their love making was heavy in the air.

He was close to his own release and all he could do was nod. He drew back, almost pulling out, and then drove back inside her, again and again, setting a punishing pace for both of them. 

Her fingers tangled in soft short hair, clenching as she grew more desperate. "Yes," she nodded in agreement. "Now..." He thrust into her so hard, so fast, it knocked the breath out of her. Harder... harder, she mouthed, reaching ... climbing each time they came together, and then he took her over the edge. She called his name, squeezing him tight, her heels digging into his back as he exploded deep inside her, waves of pleasure rocking her world.

Dean felt his cock pulse inside her, throbbing nearly in time with her as he panted and rested his head on her chest. Her heart thumped loudly in his ear and his was so loud he bet she could hear it beating in time with hers.

A few minutes passed. Her legs slipped off his shoulders, and he lifted her off the table and held her to him as he sat back on his legs. "That, baby, was ... incredible," he breathed then kissed her again.

"Ditto." Collapsing against him, she buried her face in his throat. She could feel his heart beating against hers, could hear him still struggling to get his breathing under control and was having the same problems. "It was intense."

They sat on the ground in silence for a while. The way his hand was still stroking her back, she practically wanted to purr. The silence could have been awkward, but it wasn't. It felt right, the way two people who'd known each other forever never felt like dead air time was bad. 

Buffy sighed, and ran her nail across his shoulder. "We kinda did things backwards. I'm not sorry," she proved it by kissing him, then lifting her head. "But you want that drink now? We could get some sandwiches and take them to my bedroom... never have to get up again."

Dean smirked and then kissed her again before helping her up. All the while they tried to get things together, they had a damned hard time keeping their hands off each other.

 

***

The morning came and Dean woke up feeling warm and comfortable for a change. He opened his eyes slowly and he realized this wasn't some cheap motel he was in. And his body ached in a good way. He turned his head and saw her walking out of the bathroom, looking like an angel.

Dean laid there, hands behind his head watching her. He was enjoying the way she moved and how she was brushing her hair and putting on her make up. Finally, he got up and walked behind her, leaning down and kissing her neck. "Where you headed off to so early?" He asked.

"MMmmm," she leaned back into his warmth, remembering every time and every way in which he called her name, and she called his. She hadn't wanted to get out of bed, but she'd thought it would give him a chance to get away, if that was what he wanted. And here he was, surprising her again. Nothing awkward about this at all.

"Nowhere this early. Later, I think I'll go look for a Christmas tree. If you're around and have nothing to do, you can come with. A man is always useful for, you know... lugging... and carrying," but her eyes said and other stuff.

Dean wrapped his arms around her looking at her through the mirror. "So you want me for manual labor. Getting all sweaty." He smiled and started pulling at the ties on her robe. Turning her around, he pulled her against him.

"You know, I really can't function without coffee." He lifted her up onto the dresser and pressed himself against her.

"Oh yeah? Then it's your lucky day, I know how to make coffee." Leaning down, she kissed him. "You can use the shower if you like. Meet you in the kitchen?"

As he brought her off the dresser, her body brushed the length of his. Neither one said a word, but their mouths met again, for a long lingering kiss.

As she headed for the kitchen, she was pretty sure he wasn't staying. She had no idea if he'd ever call, or if she'd ever see him again. The thought that he'd disappear from her life as quickly as he'd appeared made her a bit sad, but she couldn't regret the night they'd spent together. No way, not when it was right up there with the rest of her 'best moments of my life' list, maybe topping it even.

* * *

Dean stood in front of the mirror, wiping the steam away as he leaned forward to look at himself in it. For once, he’d had a good nights rest without drinking himself into it. The nightmares hadn’t plagued him him, either. Lucky cause the last thing he would have wanted was to wake Buffy and have to explain.

Then the memories of last night washed over him and he actually felt pretty good. Maybe that was what he’d needed. A good all night romp that took his mind off hell.

*

After he got dressed, he’d had a cup of coffee with Buffy. She had to go run dome errands and Dean told her he’d call later about man-handling that tree for her. They’d separated with a kiss and Dean watched her go before heading to the main lodge to see about getting a cabin of his own. Acquiring one, he unloaded his gear in and was about to head out when he felt like someone was in the room with him.

Dean turned around to see Castiel standing there. "Now what. You got me here." Dean pulled his hand from the door handle.

"You get the slayer?" Castiel's voice was calm as always.

"Slayer? Is that what you sent me here for cause you never told me," Dean gave that irritated look.

"Yes. You are gonna need it," He moved up to Dean. "For what is coming ahead."

"Think you can tell me where to find this Slayer?" Dean blinked and rolled his eyes. Castiel was gone. Dean grumbled under his breath. Something about angels, damn them, disappearing all the time when having a lovely conversation.

 

*****

Dean lost track of time. He’d been from one side of the town to the other, questioning people. The churches gave him no answers and now he was stuck in the library with musty old books scattered around him and some open to pages he cared not to read. "Slayer, my ass," he was grumbling as he flipped a page.

"Why are you here, Dean?" Castiel asked, standing over him.

Dean slowly lifted his head and looked up at Castiel, "I'm trying to find this Slayer."

Castiel frowned at him, "But you did. You were with her last night."

Dean frowned then a light went off, "Buffy?"

Castiel just gazed at him with those unblinking eyes.

"But, she's just ..."

"Some things are not what they seem, Dean. You of all people should know that." Castiel sat down. "She left her destiny and now, her path has crossed yours. She plays a part in this."

"No, wait, just what is she?" Dean turned to face him a bit.

"She is a weapon. She was made to be one. She is the guardian of the hell mouth. Though there are many," He paused, "Since she has left her duty, it is now assigned to you to convince her to take up that battle again."

"What?!"

A shhh was directed Dean's way and he shot the ass who’d shushed him a look, but lowered his voice, "Convince her?"

"You must," Castiel pushed away from the table, and opened a book up, leaving it to lay flat on the table.

Just as Dean starting to ask another question, the angel vanished. Cursing, Dean looked at the book and paused. The picture of a woman holding a sword looked eerily like Buffy..


	3. Chapter 3

Ice skating on the lake was a big thing in the area. Around this time of the year, everything looked so festive. Lights blinked in the surrounding pine trees and vendors sold hot cocoa and apple cider. 

Buffy had needed to get out of her house. Everywhere she looked, she remembered how Dean filled up the place, how he seemed to belong there. Yeah, she knew it was only in her mind. One night, that did not equal love, it didn't equal friendship, it didn't equal anything other than lust... a one night stand. But then why didn't it feel like one? Why did she miss him so much?

It was dumb. Idiotic. Yup… so here she was, in her cute little white outfit, with a long red scarf around her neck, sitting it out on a bench and watching other people have fun. Kids were screaming and chasing each other. Couples held hands and kissed. Buffy's hands tightened around her mug of hot chocolate as she took a deep breath.

Dean parked his car a short distance away. His stomach still churned at the thought of her being the 'slayer' whom he needed to drag back into this fucked up world of supernatural she’d escaped. Being stuck himself, he could understand. But ... like his mom, she was trying to get away from it. Trying to have a normal life.

He’d been walking toward the stands where the hot coco was sold when he saw her and stood still, looking at her for a long moment. He remembered her lips against his and how she looked into his eyes, trusting him, as he held her in his arms. He didn't want to change that but he knew he had to.

This was becoming bigger than either of them.

The snow Dean crunched under Dean’s boots as he walked over, moving around from behind her bench and taking a seat beside her. "Hey there," he spoke, leaning on his knees.

For a moment she had this crazy thought that she'd just 'wished him here.' "Hey," she tried for casual, but probably totally blew it. "You stayed in town. That's... ah... good." Smiling at him, she took a sip of her drink. "So, did you just happen to find me or are you a sucker for ice skating?"

Dean looked out at the ice wishing it was one or the other. "Well, I would say I'm a sucker for you in ice skates," He looked over at her then shifted, leaning back. "No, I came searching for you." He was just not pleased with the reasons.

"Really?" she tipped her head back, her smile broadening. "Well, what are you gonna do with me now that you've found me?" Please let him ask me out to dinner. Please. She didn't want it to be just a sex thing, she didn't. 

Dean’s mind automatically drifted to the gutter. Oh the things he would have loved to do with her. Things that would make the snow melt but, that wasn't the reason he was here. "I need to talk to you. About ..." He shifted then just spit it out, "About being the Slayer again."

She shot up and away from him he’d splashed a cold bucket of water on her. As she stared at him in disbelief, she didn't notice that she'd dropped the mug, leaving a dark stain on the pristine snow near her foot.

He didn't look like a watcher. He didn't sound like one. But he was one. Nursing the hurt, the betrayal, she lifted her chin. "So you thought you'd sleep with me and then I'd just... what... do whatever you asked? You're not all that," she lied through gritted teeth. "Come near me again and I'll introduce you to hell."

Turning on her heels, she walked off, lengthening her strides and trying to put as much space between them in as little time as possible. 

Dean jumped up and ran after her, "Buffy, wait!" He caught up to her, grabbing her arm to stop her, "It's not like that. I didn't know till this afternoon." He wasn't gonna tell her he’d been introduced to hell already in a severe way. "I was told to find you."

Her eyes grew hot with angry tears. "So they sent a hot watcher boy, like that was gonna work? Go try your slimey tactics on Faith, I'm sure she'll love them. Now get off me," she shoved him hard, sending him backwards over the the ice and getting little satisfaction as skaters cursed and tried to avoid him.

This was low. Even for the watchers, this was low. And she'd been sucked right in by a pair of green eyes that went into forever, and a sweet lying mouth. What was it they said about things that seemed too good to be true?

One last look at him, and she was stalking away. Wishing he'd never shown up today... then she'd still have her daydreams. 

Dean's arms flayed out as he was sent back with a force he didn't expect. It was almost like getting hit by a demon. After a little kid in skates jumped over him, he pushed up and found he couldn’t see her. Cursing, he got off the ice and headed back for his car.

* * *

Three days had passed since she'd told Dean to take a hike. Every night since then, he'd showed up at her door. Knocking, ringing the doorbell, trying to talk to her through it. Once, he'd somehow even made it inside. 

He'd taken a look at her and backed away. Just left. She'd like to think it was because she looked badass and scary, but the truth was he'd probably not been prepared for the tears streaming down her face.

Dammit. She hadn't wanted him to see that. To know how he'd hurt her. 

Taking a deep breath, she snuggled under her warm blanket and stared at the fire. Maybe he wouldn't come tonight. It was five to eight, he was usually here by then. Maybe he'd gotten the message yesterday. Maybe some little part of his cold as ice heart thawed, and he’d let her be.

Dean had tried. Tried for the past three days, but then he’d seen her tears and it had struck him harder then he ever expected. He could almost feel her pain. So many times, in secrecy, he’d wished their lives hadn't been what they were. No ghosts. No demons. No saving the world while you sacrificed your own happiness. He decided he couldn’t bring himself to go back there, to make her sacrifice hers. Then Castiel showed up again and insisted. 

So here he was, outside her house again, but this time he knocked a little more softly. He sighed as he looked at the paper which he sure she wasn't reading. "Buffy, please open the door."

"Damn him," Buffy closed her eyes for a sec, wondering how much longer she'd have to take this. Would she really have to move? No, dammit, she wasn't gonna let them run her out of her house. Not happening.

Throwing off her covers, she padded to the door in her red Christmassy socks that Willow had sent her. If she'd been thinking, she probably would have taken them off because they looked a bit silly.

"Leave!" she shouted, looking through the peephole and seeing he was still there. Blowing out her breath, she tugged the door open. "What part of get the hell away from me don't you get?"

"The hell part," Dean answered and held out the paper to her. "Have you seen this?" He didn't move to go inside even though he was freezing and he shivered. He just looked at her, nose red and running. He sniffed as he looked down and saw her socks. "Cute." Just like her. But she was more than cute.

Her gaze slid to his newspaper. She wasn't gonna feel sorry for him. She wasn't... he deserved this, deserved worse than a little cold and a door slamming in his face. "You're a little old for a paper route, and I'm not interested."

He opened it up to the front page and held it up for her to read. "This is the tenth one in three days. All at night. You can't tell me it just so happens that ten families all in their homes with perfectly working heaters decided not to turn them on and freeze themselves to death just to save money. Especially when the frost found in these houses were on the inside windows, not just the outside."

He looked to her and drew a breath, "I need your help."

"You have a whole watcher's counsel. You've got slayers everywhere. Leave me alone, you're not sucking me into this. I got your number." First he tried to use sex, now he was trying to guilt her into something. Did he really think she was that dumb?

"Huh? Watcher what?" Dean looked at her genuinely confused. "No, what? There are others like you?" He blinked then looked around, "Damn, Castiel, you didn't ..." He grabbed the paper from her. "Look, I just came here to help people. Innocent people who can't fight these things like we know how to. I just want to prevent more deaths."

"I'm not stopping you," she said almost gently, cocking her head. "I'm retired... out of it. Of course there are others... who sent you again?" Maybe her initial vibes were right, he wasn't a watcher. Or maybe he was just that good at this. 

Dean looked at her, "There is another problem, can I show you on the TV?" When she gave a heavy sigh but gave a nod, he walked in, bathing the warmth.

The TV announced that a blizzard the likes of which they hadn't seen in at least twelve years was happening. No one was getting in or out. The town was immobilized and more snow was expected that night. He looked at her. "Even if I was one of your so called watchers, no one can get here to help these people. So I need your help, I can't do it alone." He was trying not to answer her question about who sent him because if he told her an angel of God sent him, she would surely kick him in the balls.

She'd been kinda out of it and hadn't watched the news. The weather was bad, but she hadn't stuck her nose out, not until she'd opened the door for him now. 

He said people were dying of the cold. She could scoff, could tell him that's what happened in cold weather... that it wasn't necessarily supernatural. But she knew better, her Slayer instincts were always there... always. 

She rubbed the back of her neck and sat down, looking up at him, her eyes no less hostile, but she knew what she had to do. "Who are you? Why were you looking for me? I want the truth."

Dean sat down on her sofa, turning slightly to face her. He knew better than to touch her. "I am who I said I was. Dean Winchester, but I'm a hunter. I hunt things supernatural. Have since I was a kid. I knew nothing about Slayers or your Watchers . I just traveled from one side of the country to the other, stopping evil things."

He looked down at his hands and he felt his arm tingle where the hand print branded him. "I gave up my soul for my brother. It's a story I’d rather not get into but I went to hell. I was there for four months before I was yanked out, by an angel of God. He told me he had work for me. Now he sent me to find you. Look, I'm not gonna force you to do anything. I can't make you do something you don't want to do. You have a choice, I don't."

She narrowed her gaze, searching his face, his body language. The story was just as crazy and just as plausible as all of the stories she'd lived through. Giving her life up for her sister. Being brought back by a witch. Always... always someone out there to save. She'd even met entities who called themselves Gods, so why not angels?

"Angels fight dirty too," she mused, a hurt smile pulling at her lips. When the good guys played tricks like these people did, it made it hard to know the difference between the white hats and the black hats. "Fine. I'll help you with this. Then I never see you again and you tell that angel of yours that if he ever tries to pull this trick on me again, I will stuff his feathers up his ass."

Dean looked at her, instinctively knowing she was referring to when she’d had him over. "In his defense, that part was all me and I didn't know who you were at the time. I didn't find out till three days ago. But yeah, we do this, first chance I get to leave, I'm out of your hair."

She didn't believe him. Didn't want to. She wasn't opening herself up to more pain and instinctively she knew that's all this man could give her. Strange, how sure she'd been of the opposite just a few days ago.

*

One hour later, they were driving around in his car, looking for anything out of place. They hardly spoke and looked at each other even less. Buffy wished she'd taken a separate car, that she wasn't stuck here so close to him. So close she could smell the light scent of his cologne. Even feel the heat from his body. 

How could memories of just one night torture her so? It was all the dreams she'd woven around them... that's what it had to be.

"Stop. Over there," she pointed at a house slightly up the hill. The light coming from it seemed weird, sort of distorted. As he turned into the drive leading to it, her eyebrows knit together.

Dean stopped the car and looked at the house before climbing out and grabbing his bag from the trunk. "Okay, let's go in." He moved past her and headed up the stairs to the door. He had his father's journal in his pocket as he reached for the door.

She tried the door, but it was closed. Having had firsthand experience with Dean breaking into her place, she started to ask him to do his thing as she walked around the house and stopped. "Dean."

Placing her hand against the window, she saw she wasn't imagining anything. There were several feet of ice encasing the house, and from inside, she could see people banging on the window... or on ice... but couldn't hear them. "What is this?"

Dean got the lock open and he pulled the door wide. The inside of the door frame was iced over. He cursed and told her what he’d found. "Buffy, go to the trunk, get one of the portable torches. Maybe we can burn through and get them out through a window."

"Torches? You carry torches?" She caught the keys he tossed her, and went back to the car. Now that she knew what the cause of the strange deflection of light was, she couldn't help thinking how scared the people inside must be. She'd bet their phones were down, and their heating, since Dean had said people were found frozen.

A few minutes later, she returned and finding him in front of the window, handed him the torch. She'd brought the axe as well, and would help him once he weakened the ice.

Dean took the can from her and started to light it. He looked at Buffy, "Break the glass," he got the torch running and he covered himself as she hit the glass, shattering it and some ice. Dean immediately started working on the ice, trying to melt it with the blowtorch.

They worked for a full fifteen minutes before Buffy put the axe down. "It's reforming too fast. We're never gonna get through." The moment he pulled the flame away, another layer of ice covered the slight indentation they'd created.

"I think we need to figure out what this is. I don’t think the cops or anyone else will be able to get through either." She looked at him for his take.

Dean cursed. He hated to give up. And he knew it was a matter of time before the people inside died. He couldn't hear them yelling any more or see a lot of movement. "Hex bag. Something has to be in the house." Reaching into his jacket to pull out his father's journal and started flipping through it, trying to find anything that referred to cold snaps or ice. "Look around and see if you can find something out of place."

Their search of the area around the house turned up nothing. The next thing she knew, Buffy was following Dean up the side of the building and they were on the roof. "Climbing equipment. Everyone keeps that in the trunk," she muttered.

"Yeah, well I'm not everyone," Dean grumbled as he was really starting to get cold. He gave her a look and headed across the roof with purposeful strides.

"You're kidding.... you're not kidding." The last thing she saw was his smug smile as he disappeared down the chimney with a rope secured around his waist. Shaking her head and taking comfort in the fact that if there was a fire, he'd be barbequed first, she climbed in after him.

Before they reached the bottom, she heard him kicking and breaking through some ice. Then he dropped down and crawled out of the fireplace.

When they both stood in the middle of the room, she started to laugh at how he looked, only a few patches of his skin showing... the rest of him a blackened mess. The family of three in the room also started to laugh, though they sounded a bit on the hysterical side. 

Dean looked at them all, "Glad you all had a good laugh, can we get going? Before it freezes back up again?" He motioned to get them out as quickly as they could. He sent Buffy back up first for her to hold the rope and pull the others up after he tied the rope around their waists. Finally, Dean climbed out.

After being thanked, Dean watched the family drive away before he walked over to his car. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Buffy got in and tried not to laugh when he got in and all she could see was white teeth again sooty black. They weren't gonna get friendly. They weren't gonna joke. This was all business between them, that was all. And yet, her shoulders were shaking as she looked out at the snowy street.

*

"You can use he guest bathroom," she told Dean tightly, giving him some towels. Three days ago, it had been so different. "I'll meet you back out here."

Dean took the towels, trying not to get them dirty. "Thanks," he muttered as he headed for the bathroom. Dean closed the door and started to undress. He was a mess and when he looked in the mirror, he could see why she was snickering earlier. Is eyes showed through the black grime covering him. 

It took him a long while but finally he was clean and he was out of the shower but there was a problem. He had no clean clothing. Towel about his waist he walked out.

Laying on the ground on her stomach and pounding on her lap top's keyboard, Buffy who’d taken a quicker shower, looked up. "You're not wearing anything." The words flew out of her mouth before she could think. Hell, who could think with him standing there, displaying his chiseled body, and with a towel threatening to loosen and fall to the ground at any moment.

Images assaulted her mind. Memories of kissing his throat, his chest. Memories of how his body would lift up ever single time she nipped him to the left of his belly button. Heat flooded her cheeks. She licked her lips. "You need to get dressed."

Dean walked over and sat down, looking at her, "You know, I really would like to if I had some clean clothing." He tipped his head to her. "So unless you have some men's clothing, this is what you get."

"Don’t you have clothes in the car?" He was so lying if he said no. Her eyes narrowed.

Dean reached over and tossed his keys to her, "In the trunk, or the back seat, one of the too. Oh and put a coat on, it's cold out there."

She glared at him and hopped up. Striding past, hips swinging, she reached the door and pulled it open. "Dean?" She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes wide.

"What?" He got up and walked over. "Will you hurry up, you’re letting all the cold ..." Dean stopped as he looked out the door at the solid block of ice covering the exit. "I am so screwed."


	4. Chapter 4

Letting out her breath, she pushed the door shut against the ice wall just outside. Checking out of a few windows, she saw it was the same. "We'd better grab stuff to bring in here before..." When they’d questioned the family they’d rescued, they’d been told that they’d been sealed into one room and could not access other parts of the house. "You get stuff from the kitchen and garage, there should be extra batteries... I'll get blankets and things from inside. Worst comes to worst... we can climb out the chimney." Did that mean they needed to douse the fire? 

Dean rushed out into the kitchen and garage but then yelled to her, "Get my clothing and my jacket. Especially that!" He was grabbing all he thought they would need before tossing it into the room and getting stuff from the kitchen. Food to eat. 

"Your clothes are in the drier, in the garage," she shouted. She’d left his jacket hanging though. 

Buffy wondered how long it would take before they lost power. Or was it just heat and telephone service? Those people still had lights. Back and forth, she ran, putting stuff inside a large blanket so she could carry more. Layers of clothing, candles just in case the power did go out, radio, an extra external battery for her lap top, and as much other stuff as she could grab. By the time she returned, she saw ice was forming at the corners of doors to the hallway. 

"Good thing I'm not claustrophobic." She gave him a look that spoke volumes about how she might have preferred to be stuck with someone else. He'd laid his clothes out in front of the fire, but was still giving her a show. "Want to borrow some clothes?" 

Dean dropped some more items into the room. He thought he got enough food and drink, enough to get them through a couple nights if necessary. Digging into his jacket’s pocket, he pulled his father's journal out and started flipping through pages. "What? My cloths will dry. You know if you’re uncomfortable with it, you can get naked too. then we’d be even." 

Her mouth tightened, but she didn't say anything. Was he really that oblivious? She was sure he wasn't, and that bugged her even more. Dropping down to the ground and resting her back against the sofa, she recapped everything they knew, then started to research on the lap top. "I'm really rusty at this." She had no bookmarks for trustworthy sites, and even as she tried to log into the watchers' database, she was sure her password was no longer any good.

Dean muttered something, though she had no idea what he was doing. He seemed to be flipping pages, having discussions with himself and then flipping again. It took her a second to realize she was doing the same thing... landing on sites, arguing with herself about whether what she found was useful, and moving on. Great. She did not want to have anything in common with him.

Dean suddenly stopped turning pages, "Got it. I knew I saw something in here." He dropped down beside her on the floor, "Look, right here, Jack Frost." He looked at her. "My father ran into this guy about fifteen years ago. But he couldn't trap him." 

"Your father... what is that?" she asked, trying to read the handwritten notes he was showing her, but then he started to summarized them. 

At first, she protested that Jack Frost was a story, a name for winter. But his explanation and examples of various so called children's stories having horrific bases in reality stilled her protests. "So this guy chooses a town and just starts putting people to sleep using the cold. That's sick. At least we know we have three days before..." Not that they were really trapped, as far as she knew the same chimney trick would work for them. "How did your dad plan to trap him?"

Dean turned the journal back to himself. "Well if I can figure out the rest of my dad's yoda like writing, I'll tell ya." Dean kept reading trying to ignore the fact that she was close. He could smell the soft scent of her perfume. Feel her warmth which made him shiver a bit and made him realize the room was getting cooler. 

"Okay, here we go," He had found it in another section of John's journal. He paused a moment and then looked around the room. "This has got to be ..." Dean set the journal down. "We need a mirror. We have to catch him in the mirror. He hates his own reflection and that is why the windows get frosted. Even if the sun hits them, it distorts his image. So we need to use a mirror to trap him. And it has to be done, just before the sun comes up." He said, making a face. “That’s when he comes checking on the victims.” 

"What? Not a morning person?" She asked, almost saying she knew otherwise. He'd been very very good in the morning when they'd... Feeling the heat rise up her cheeks, she nodded. "I'll get a mirror. What else?"

Dean shrugged as he looked back in the journal, "Nothing else, just a mirror. Unless you want to get some coffee or something?" He sat the journal down then pushed to his knees to check on his clothing, seeing if they were dry yet. 

"Yeah, that's a good idea." When he moved, his bare stomach grazed her cheek. Biting her lip, she got up. The kitchen entry was completely glazed over, but the ice was still thin enough for her to break through it. Once inside, she didn't want to be trapped, so she rushed, getting a metal coffee pot with a long handle was meant for camping trips, filling it with water, and balancing it and some instant coffee, sugar and creamer as she came back out.

Seeing him on all fours as he rekindled the flames, that damned towel threatening to slip off, Buffy almost dropped everything. She hated that he could do this to her. No, what she hated was that she'd thought he was her dream man, and he'd turned out to be the enemy.

"Here," her voice was a bit thick with emotion, and rough as she shoved the coffee pot to him to place on the logs.

Dean looked at her, his eyes going over her for a moment. He honestly wished, she was not the one Castiel sent him after. So she could have her wish. Her dream. Dean knew he himself could never have that but if there was one other person he wanted to be able to quit, it was her. 

He took the pot and placed it near the fire but not quite on it. Then he grabbed his pants and after moving behind the couch, pulled them on then came back to get his tee shirt on. "We should lay these blankets out, make a bed to sleep in. We're stuck here, maybe for three days." He couldn’t be sure Jack would show tomorrow morning.

"A bed. One bed?" She gave him a look that said 'when hell freezes over,' and started to place the blankets on the ground, making sure enough floor space separated them. "You don't think we'll catch it in the morning? That's defeatist." Or was he hoping... Her eyes swung to his.

Dean looked over to her, "Not a defeatist but a realist. According to my dad's journal, he can show up any day up to the third day so we may end up having to wait him out." He didn't comment about the bed issue. When she got cold enough, she would see his reasoning. He knew she hated him with her very being. Not that he could blame her but she also wasn't listening to what he was saying either. Or wouldn’t believe him so why try and tell her he was told what what was needed by an angel? 

"Third day?" she practically squeaked. She migh have to spend not only tonight but tomorrow with him? At least he'd put some clothes on, she fumed. "Great."

Reaching for the remote, she turned the t.v. on, but all she got was snow. "Dammit, must be the blizzard. Now what are we gonna do."

Dean grabbed the journal and shrugged, "I got coffee brewing. Try the radio," he offered up as he leaned back against the couch, waiting for his coffee water to boil. He threw a glance over to her, admitting to himself, she was damn cute when she was pissed off and angry. 

It would be better than nothing. She crossed the room and turned it on, thinking she might find a CD to pop into the player, when Christmas carols filtered through the speakers. The familiar words and songs relaxed her a bit, so she decided to leave it on.

It still left the question of how they were gonna kill time until it was time to sleep. "Could decorate the tree," she muttered. She'd brought her boxes of ornaments out and left them near the tree, completely out of the mood to fix it once she'd found out what he really wanted from her.

Dean slowly slid his eyes to her. "Seriously?" He turned his head to the tree then back to her before he pushed up, "Okay, let's decorate the tree. Might as well do something." He walked over to the boxes and then up to the tree, "You got lights right?" The last tree he saw decorated was the one Sam got that was a Charlie Brown style tree with air fresheners on it. 

She'd thought he would refuse, and now that he was up there with her, she wasn't so sure it was a good idea. This played right in with her dreams. Was she just opening herself up to more heartache?

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. "Course I have lights," moving closer, she rummaged through the boxes near his legs, and pulled out the strings. "Hate these things, always get tangled," she looked at him as she unwound them.

Dean shrugged, "I wouldn't know, sometimes we never had a tree, let alone celebrated Christmas." He was pulling at one side while she was on another and moved closer. He was trying to get them untangled and ended up putting some around his neck, "No, no, this end needs to go through here," he was pulling on it when he realized how close he was to her. 

She was still processing a childhood with no trees or celebration, when she found herself so close to him, she could smell his fresh clean scent with every breath she took. When their eyes met, she knew he was thinking the same thing. "I wish..." 

Swallowing she pulled away, "this end needs to be near the ground. You can start stringing it on."

Dean was watching her lips as they moved and he wanted to lean down and kiss her but then she was pulling away. He drew in a breath to take in her soft scent of her perfume. "Yeah, just, don't hit me if I do this wrong," he warned her as he started to wrap the tree with the lights. 

He walked around it, threading them between the branches. Whenever Buffy made a comment, Dean would stop, look at her as if she was kidding but saw she was serious then back up, redo it again and keep going. It took him longer than he’d imagined, but finally, he was finished. Dean grabbed for the garland and tossed some at her, "Hold this for me," He was grinning.

"What, now you're an expert?" Despite her sarcasm, she had to smile. She really had made him work hard on the tree, making sure the lights were even, the wires hidden, and that it looked perfect. "Alright, Mr. expert, but I'm watching every move. And the back of the tree _matters_ ," she reminded him.

Dean tried not to smile but his smirk appeared as he moved around the tree. "Sure you are, just can't keep your eyes off my ass," he chuckled and was glad the tree was between him and Buffy. 

Her eyes widened. Was she that obvious? He really could be both irritating and charming, which was a pretty damned lethal combination when you were trying to keep away from someone. Someone too hot for her own good.

"Right... I'm aiming," she smirked back, glad she was able to joke. If they were gonna be in the same house, room for a while, they'd better at least be able to get along. 

She fed some more of the garland to him, "I have to admit, I thought I'd have to go behind you and fix whatever mess you made of the tree. You're doing good."

Dean was chuckling as he worked around the tree. He was stringing it up then stopped when he was near her, "That’s because you’re worse than Santa is on his elves. At least they get cookies." He shook some of the garland at her face, "But hey, at least you have better legs and no beard." He started stringing it up again, nearing the top. 

Laughter bubbled up out of her throat and there was nothing she could do about it, even if she'd wanted to. "You're crazy, know that?" And straight forward, and ballsy, and in your face sexy hot... and that's why she'd fallen for him at the bar, damn him.

Dean smiled, something not fake or made up, his eyes lighting up at what he took for a compliment. He stopped when he got to the top and then stepped back before reaching in the box and pulling the star out. "I think you should get the honors," of course he _didn't_ think of the fact she was too short and he was gonna have to pick her up.

Taking it from him, she started to stretch up. Just when she was going to ask him to do it since she couldn't reach high enough, his strong arms came around her. For a second, she couldn't think. It was a complete mind freeze. Her body, on the other hand, was getting warmer by the minute and her heart was doing some sort of leapy-dancy thing in her chest.

She quickly put the star at the top of the tree, and then he let her slide down against his body, but didn't release her. Twisting around slowly so she faced him, she said, "thanks... I think it came out good."

Right... she needed to move. Eventually, she did move out of his arms. Dammit, it was getting harder and harder to hang onto her anger.

Dean just looked down at Buffy. Those eyes and how her lips moved, it all brought back memories of the night they spent. "Yeah, it did," he answered her, but wasn't looking at the tree. Reluctantly, however, he let her slip from his arms and he watched her move away. 

This was gonna be a long night.

* * *

They'd played cards, and it had gotten colder.

They'd watched a DVD, and it started to freeze.

Wearing more layers than she ever had before, buffy crawled inside her make shift bed on the floor near the fire. Even the roaring fire wasn't giving off much heat, so being close to it didn't do any good. 

Pulling the covers up higher, she tried to think warm thoughts. Unfortunately, her thoughts were punctuated by her chattering teeth.

Even Dean was getting cold. He tried to keep the fire going, breaking down chairs to toss into it. It didn’t help. And it was getting harder to think. Dean kept his jaws tight, keep his teeth from chattering. It was only the chatter of Buffy's that reminded him of his father’s lessons.

He had to stave off the cold for just a while longer. He glanced over to the mirror, hoping, no, silently praying it would work, for his sake and Buffy's as well. Then moved over to her. "We need to keep warm." When she gave him _that_ look, he rolled his eyes and kicked his boots off then climbed into her bedding. 

"My father taught us this when I was a kid." He was pulling his shirts off, revealing his chest. Yeah she was gonna protest, "Look, body heat is the only way and we need to get naked in order for it work." 

"N... naked, no." She was gonna scramble away from him, but the warmth emanating from his body was too much too resist. Yeah... tell yourself that, Summers.

It wasn't like he was listening to her anyway, he was ignoring her and stripping off his jeans and giving Buffy an eyeful as he lifted the blankets to move around. She shook her head no when he glanced at her, gripping her layers of tops tight. Skin to skin with him... that so wasn't happening. No good could come out of that. Just more pain... more of wanting things that would never be. Sitting up, she closed her arms around her knees and put her head down on top of them. 

Dean was down to his underwear and cold. She was being resistant and yeah, it was stupid at this moment. At least in his eyes. Survival was more important than her anger at him. He grabbed her, "Buffy, I know you hate me. Hate me because," he paused a moment, "Because you thought I was using you but I wasn't. I'm a jerk, I know that, but I'm not that insensitive. And I," He stopped a moment, "I don't blame you for wanting what you do… to quit." 

He was being honest with her. It was one of the very few and rare times he ever was with a woman. "I've thought about it many times myself. But I just, I can never break away. And I know now, this is what I must do."

"I thought..." There was that lump in her throat again, dammit. "I _wanted_ you to be a normal guy. I thought... I could have sworn you... me... it could have happened, Dean. It could have," she forced the words out and then started to peel off the layers of clothing, if only to hide her teary eyes from him.

Dean started helping her, "I haven't been a normal guy since I was four," he muttered. "I wish I could be a normal guy but I'm not. I think like you, we both didn't have much of a choice in what we became. Except you, you can get away, me, I can't." Dean took her shirt and set it aside. He paused a moment, "I'm sorry." 

"I thought I couldn't either. If you tried..." She knew that wasn't fair. The only reason she'd been able to get out of it was because more Slayers were created. Still what did he have to offer the fight that others didn't? 

When she was down to her bra and panty, she scooted down and let him hold her tight, every part of her body contoured against his, remembering that one night. She felt a tremor go through her body, and buried her face in his warm neck. "You're human... there are other hunters. Why can't you get out of it. Maybe if you had something to... to need to live for." _Like some washed up needy ex-Slayer._

Dean held Buffy to him tightly. She was reminding him of the all too clear fact, he was human. He closed his eyes for a moment then drew a breath, shook his head, "I had something to live for once, my brother. I traded my soul for his life. I'll be paying for that for the rest of my life,” He was gently stroking her back. 

"I don't understand." She snuggled closer to him, stealing his heat, stealing a few more moments of a dream that couldn't... wouldn't ever be.

"I've been to hell, Buffy. I should still be there. I was pulled out by an angel in order to fight the battle against evil. This scar is my reminder," he looked at his shoulder. "You have a choice, some of us don't." 

She didn't want to accept that. Wrapping her arms around him, she lifted her face. "Does it make you theirs forever?" She brushed her lips over his scar. "Does it? What about... Do you belong to them all the time? I mean..." What did she mean? What was she asking him? Did he have time for her? Was this something that took all of his time? Did she really want him to voice his rejection of all the possibilities?

Dean didn't know what it made him. All he knew was that she was making him hot. He looked down to her, "I'm yours right now."

"Right now." Only for now, a soft voice whispered in her head. When her gaze met his though, the heat that flared between them was too much to fight. One more night was better than none. It was gonna hurt either way when he left.  
"Is that enough for you?" Yeah, she REALLY didn't want the answer to that one, so she pushed him onto his back and rolled on top, welding her mouth to his, pressing into the warmth of his body... pretending he was hers, that he wouldn't leave, that he'd be here not only tomorrow, but the next day, and the next.

Dean didn't resist, he honestly didn't want to. He rolled with her, his mouth coming up to meet hers mid-air in a hard kiss that sent heat rushing through him as his wrapped his arms around her tightly. But her question lingered in the back of his mind. With his hands moving over her body, one coming up to cup her ass, he kissed her deeply. When he finally broke for air, his breathing heavy, he answered her, honestly, "No, it's not."

Her heart constricted. No, she wasn't gonna hope. She could pretend, or she could be a realist, but she wasn't going to hope for more. "You're not saying that just to get sex, are you?" she teased, running her knee up and down his inner thigh, and then pressing her thigh against his arousal. He'd never know how hard she worked to crack the simple joke.

Dean looked at her, his expression all serious. He reached up, brushing her hair back, knowing he shouldn't say anything. He should just kiss her, but he could tell she was hurting enough, "No, I'm not. Buffy, if things could be different for me, I would take everything you were willing to give me. Every night, not just this one." His hand sweeping over her back, he pushed his fingers under her bra.

"Alright." Her voice cracked a little. "Then do me a favor. Pretend," she said through gritted teeth. "Pretend it's not for one night... pretend its forever."

She didn't let him answer, she knew somehow he'd give her that one little thing. _Mine. This man is mine. When I come home after work, he drives in at the same time. We kiss just outside the door, and then we shut the world out._

That was it. Every wall she'd built around her heart fell. Every protection was stripped away. And she was all over him, like she owned him. Kissing his mouth, his throat, kissing down his chest... memorizing him one more time.  
Dean could pretend and for her, he would do anything. He returned her kisses just as eager, just as deeply. And when she was kissing his throat, a little sound left him and with a little flick of his his fingers, he had her bra undone. He closed his eyes, imagining she would be with him, everywhere he went. Always by his side. 

He pulled her bra from between them and tossed it over his head as he pulled her back up so he could kiss her. He rolled her to her back, his exploring her body as his hand cupped her breast. 

"Dean!" she gasped as a bolt of heat went through her system. Arching up to meet his mouth, she was breathing hard... each of her breaths misting and hanging in the air. "Oh God..." What was it about him that made her burn like this? 

She shifted her legs, curling one of them around his and pushing her body up, moaning at the feel of his hardness pressing against her core. Then his mouth was on her, hot and moist, sucking her nipple, teasing it... making her want more, need more. She slid her hand up and down his back, digging her fingers in him, urging him on. 

Dean made pleased sounds, his hips rubbing, his hands gripping, tugging her tighter against him. The sound of his name leaving her lips only urged him on. He lifted his head, eyes focused on her nipple hardening and peaking from the cold air. Pulling the covers up over them, he angled his body over hers, moving between her legs, her wet panties pressed against his underwear. 

Bearing his weight on one arm, he caressed her body with his other hand, half wishing that no matter how terrible this night got, with Jack Frost and his tricks, that it wouldn't end. He wouldn't mind staying here between these slender legs, gazing into the depths of her eyes forever. 

Lowering down completely over her, Dean locked his lips against hers, kissing her deeply as his arm went around the curve of her back and he started to push her panties down.

She lifted her hips, then started to kick her panties off, pushing them down her legs. Hot, so hot... she whimpered and tried to push his shorts off. "Need you. So much, Dean," she whispered hoarsely. He'd never know how much she'd missed him, never. Never know how much like 'home' it felt when she was in his arms... like they belonged.

Dean rocked side to side, pushing at his underwear untill she was using her toes to push and pull them off the rest of the way off him. "I need you too," he answered rolling and pulling her so she was on top of him, his hands on her hips, urging her to take him. 

Lifting up, she leaned forward and kissed him as he adjusted himself and was pushing against her entrance. Needing to be close, she didn't hesitate and sat down in a fluid motion, taking him inside... all of him. A sound tore from the back of her throat as he filled her completely. 

She didn't wait for her body to adjust, and she could read the relief in his face as she started to move over him. His hands on her hips, stroking her back, pulling and pushing her... they found their rhythm. She never stopped kissing him, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

 _I love you. I'd keep you forever if you'd let me._ Words she couldn't tell him. Feelings she had to hold back simmered and bubbled inside her. Even engulfed by heat, she felt tears start to escape her eyes, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it. Not a damned thing.

Dean kissed her deeply, softly, hungrily and every other way he could show her how badly wanted her, needed her. He had one hand at the small of her back, the other on her shoulder blades as she moved. He didn't bother with her hair, liking the feel of it brushing over him. 

Need slammed into him. Suddenly he sat, bringing his chest into contact with her breasts now pressed against him. Hands at her slender waist, he helped her rock into him, biting his lip at the sensations flooding him. This might be the last time he’d have her in her his arms. He knew couldn't bring himself to try and make her come out of retirement, couldn’t pull her back into the hell she was trying to escape. He could handle it, but her ... he wasn't gonna be the cause of her unhappiness, no matter what Castiel said or wanted him to do. 

She gasped at his unexpected move, bringing them even closer. Locking her legs around his waist, she rocked against him, raising herself up and down, holding him tight, like she was afraid he was gonna disappear on her. They moved together like that for a long time, making it last as long as they could, and then she felt his fingers bite into her hip. 

Pulling back and blinking the tears away, she let him help her ride him... hard, as they looked into each others' eyes. His were fathomless... bottomless. Just looking inside them made her dizzy, or hot... or both. "Dean." She clutched his shoulders, "Dean..." No, she shouldn't say it, she shouldn't... But as the pressure built, the words welled up her throat and there was nothing she could do to stop them. "I love you. I do... Dean..." 

And then she was clenching around his cock so tight... shattering around him, sounds breaking from her as she climaxed hard, never looking away.

Dean couldn't bring himself to look away. Holding her gaze, he saw a glimpse of her pain. It tore at him to know, he had hurt her so much. Just raw emotions bleeding from the both of them that when she said her words, his clung to her, his arms around her tightly. 

He dropped back as she released over him, bending his legs and pumped into her a few more times before he released as well, biting back a strangled cry as he buried his face into her neck. He held her tightly, shaking a bit from his release before he mumbled the words against her skin, as if fearing someone would hear him, "I love you too, Buffy." He clutched her tighter.

 

"You say that..." she laughed, but there was a touch of hysteria to it. She'd wanted him to lie, hadn't she? But it hurt when she thought about what it would be like if it were true. Moving over him one last time, she stilled, taking a few deep breaths. 

Dean ran his hand through her hair. He gave her a weak smile. But then he kissed her, refusing to separate their bodies... not wanting this to end, but knowing it had to. He’d realized a long time ago, happiness was never meant for him. "I sure did warm things up, huh?" 

"Smokin' hot," she smiled, swallowing over the lump in his throat. "Always." She probably should get off him, but she couldn't. Crossing her arms on his chest, she leaned her chin on them, just looking at him. "Two hours, before we have to get him... Jack. But suddenly he doesn't seem so bad."

Dean smoothed a hand down her back, following the curve of her ass and gripping her. "Two hours? That is it? What shall we do till then?" He asked as his eyes drank in her lovely features. 

"I don't know," she nipped his chin with her teeth, stretching like a cat under his touch. "Play board games? Yatzee? Mmmm?" God she loved how he felt, how he smelled. How he could make her toes curl with just one look. 

"Hide and seek?" Dean grinned. "Though chess sounds good." He rolled them so he was on top, leaning down and nipping her neck as he moved his hand down her body to hook her leg over him and caress it. 

"Chess?" She arched up, making a pleased sound. "No I think I like hide and seek better. See what it is I'm seeking?" She rubbed her knee against his groin, heat flooding her system as she felt him already responding to her touch. "You sure you're human?" Hello, it was a bit late to ask that. She maybe should've the last time he made love to her all night.

Dean chuckled, working his way down her neck to her breast, "Human, a really horny one." He covered a nipple, sucking upon it, teasing it, nipping and pulling till he had her squirming before dragging his lips over to the other side to repeat the action. 

He lifted his head to gaze at her, crawling up her body a bit and lowering his lips over hers, "You know, you’re the only one who has this effect on me." Lowering his head, he kissed her.

"What effect. You mean you're not naturally horny?" She didn't believe it, but she was still pleased as she wound her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back. "Merry Christmas, Dean."

"Merry Christmas, Buffy," he breathed over her lips then closed the distance, giving her a soft meaningful kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

The room had gotten colder and the fire was down a bit more. A light blanket of frost was trying to form over items in the room except what was close to them. Dean was holding Buffy, tightly in his arms, body heat keeping them warm under the stacks of blankets.

His watch barely beeped and he opened his eyes quickly. "Buffy, wake up." He was pulling their clothing from the bottom of the bedding, "Hurry up, get dressed, Jack is gonna be here soon, need you to get the mirror."

She stole one kiss from him before she did what he asked. The layers of clothing were back on but nothing could warm her like the heat of his body had all night long. She went and grabbed the mirror and took her place. 

Looking at each other from two opposite sides of the room, they waited in the chilly air, hardly moving. The were banking on John Winchester’s theory that this Jack Frost character got his jollies from freezing his victims and would come to check on their state.

Buffy’s eyes kept seeking the warmth of his. Giving him a wry smile, she wondered what he was thinking. Was he really gonna leave her after this? 

Dean was crouched by the window, looking out for moment. Now and again, he’d glance over in Buffy's direction, meeting her gaze. She looked worried but he had a feeling it wasn't because of Jack. Before he had time to puzzle it out, the sound of ice cracking underfoot had his head jerking around. He motioned for Buffy to move a bit, out of the line of sight.

"Yer as cold as ice, willing to ..." the frosty little thin faced man sang in a reedy voice as he walked over ice forming under his feet with each step that he took. He stopped suddenly and looked at the fire and the blankets and he breathed out a cold breath. "Are you hiding under the blankets?" He started to move toward the lumps on the floor, putting his hand out and ready to touch and sap any remaining warmth from the bodies of his victims.

Dean quickly sprang out, standing behind the fae and clamping his arms around his body in a vice-like grip. Instantly, his arms began to freeze and he shouted, "Buffy, now!"

"What?" Jack was surprised and he looked around, about to portal out once his curiosity was satisfied.

With the speed of a slayer, Buffy was in front of the struggling men, holding the mirror right in front of the murderous creature. As the thing started to scream, she shrugged, "you guys only come in ugly and uglier... I know, mirror scary."

The creature was sucked bodily out of Dean's hold and into the mirror, disappearing completely. Just like that, the ice walls and windows started to melt away. "What do we do with this?" she asked.

Dean's teeth were chattering, a layer of frost covered his body. He was lucky he didn't get frost bite or lose a limb. Grabbing Jack like that had been a big risk, one Dean would take all over again.

He took the mirror from Buffy and moved over to the fire to toss it in, watching it burn. "I like it better when Mother Nature controls the weather." He looked back at Buffy, still cold but the fire was now roaring hot.

"Me too," she said, moving up behind him and putting her arms around his waist, her hands crossed over his belly as she shared her own warmth and nuzzled the side of his throat. God... she didn't want to let him go. She never wanted to let go. Biting her lip, she stemmed all the words ... the pleas that she knew would not stop him from walking out the door.

* * *

He stayed with her another two days until the roads had cleared. They never once mentioned he was leaving or talked about his mission. Instead, they played house... that was how Buffy would describe it. Two days of totally normal. Of a guy and a girl, in love, talking, arguing, making up, making love, eating, making love, eating... There was a whole lot of eating and sexing, and when she told Dean he was insatiable, he got the smuggest look on his face. She memorized that look, and would keep it with her, always.

Sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, arms around her body, she watched as he went in and out of the house, packing his trunk. A hole burned low in her stomach. Too soon, it was too soon for him to leave her.

Dean tried to delay as much as possible, making slow trips to the car and taking only small bits out at a time, before coming back in to grab more. Finally there was no more to carry out and the time had come. Dean dreaded the moment even as he walked over and sat down beside Buffy, placing his hand on her leg. "All done," he gently told her.

"Yeah." She looked up at him and felt the tears stinging her eyes. Her hand searched for his and she squeezed it, as if she wouldn't let him go. "You..." she swallowed over the lump in her throat as she tried to memorize his face. "... if you're ever around here, you know... drop by."

Dean's eyes shifted between looking into hers, seeing the tears welling up, the red lining and her nose getting this little hint of pink as well. He turned his hand over in hers, clutching, not wanting to let go. But she didn't deserve this life he was going back to. She had a chance to end her pain from it, but not him.

He leaned over, cupping her check with his other hand and tenderly kissed her cheek, "You know I will." This time, it wasn't a lie.

She moved her face and kissed him back on the mouth, slowly at first, then harder, wanting the moment to last forever. She should be happy that he'd said he'd be back, but he'd already told her what his life was like. Always on the move. What were the chances he'd be back here anytime soon? 

Tasting her tears on their lips, she broke the kiss and hugged him tight, burying her face in his shoulder. "Gonna hold you to that."

Dean could taste the salt on his lips, feel the wetness from her tears soaking through his shirt. He circled both his arms around her, one hand cupping the back of her head as he held her. And then he swallowed and pushed her back, looking into her eyes. "Come with me." The words were blurted out before he could take them back.

"Wha--" For one crazy moment, she considered it. Then she fought against the idea. How long had it taken her to kick that way of life, to put it behind her? She felt more tears welling up when she saw the raw emotion in his eyes.

Could she do it? Could she give up what she'd struggled to gain? Peace? But then again, would she ever have peace with him away from her? Would she be left wondering what danger he was in, whether he'd make it, and when she would see him again? Was that a future she wanted for herself?

Go with him, a voice shouted in her head. It was her own.

Licking her lips, she nodded and pushed herself back into his arms, holding him tight. "Okay... but you tell that angel of yours that we get vacations. Like normal people with normal jobs. Can you do that?" she asked, her voice a bit strained, but her heart oddly lighter for having made the decision.

"Cas? I don't care what he says." He held her, "I need you with me ... for more than what he wants. They want. I need you ..." He needed her to watch his back. He needed her to turn to when he couldn't turn to Sam. His brother was like a stranger to him these days and truly, he was as tired as she was.

She looked up, and somehow knew he meant every word. "I need you too. I love you." Their mouths met again as they kissed, practically devouring each other as they hung on. 

It was gonna be okay. No, it was gonna be freaking awesome. They'd make it, they'd find a way. 

Dean held her, kissing her, and a feeling washed over him. One he really couldn't explain. Perhaps, for once, something good happened. Something good to one Dean Winchester. Tessa was right, good things were in store for him, even if he hadn’t see it, till now.

THE END


End file.
